Moving Forward With The Obi Wan Effect

As busy as I was this week with arrangements for my father's funeral service, there is something incredibly  therapeutic about putting down words that helps to relieve some of the loss. It is difficult internalizing everything—at least for me—and trying to make sense of it all.

One thing is for sure, those of us who have lost a parent understand how difficult this is. I liken the experience to a first-time parent. Before having children, everyone tells you that your life is going to change, that you will never understand the capacity to love another human being until you have a child of your own. I know that is true for me. I understood for the first time just how much my parents love, and had sacrificed for me when Alaina and I welcomed Luca into this world. I specifically remember one remark a college professor made to me in graduate school after I commented on what a beautiful picture of his children he had on his office bookshelf. "Yeah, it's crazy, you would step in front of a train for them." When Alaina was pregnant with Julian, I almost felt guilty thinking how could I possibly love another child just as much as Luca, but I do. I love each one of my children equally and appreciate their uniqueness, and special gifts that each bring to our lives that enrich them.

The realization that my father will not physically be present in my life is still sinking in. It still feels very surreal. I don't think anyone who has not experienced the loss of a parent can truly appreciate just how difficult it is. You join a special fraternity on that day—one in which we will all ultimately become part of.

I would look to my father for guidance for just about everything. Suddenly, I am forced to live my life making decisions based on what I think my father's guidance would have been. I am thankful that my children all had the opportunity to stay over his house and spend time with him the last couple weeks he was here. What is amazing about the whole process, is that suddenly, some things become very apparent. Lessons that you thought you understood, now hit home with a clarity and realization that seem more profound. Family is the most important thing in our lives. No greater evidence is needed than having an older generation of extended family around that can empathize with our family.

Even though my father is not present on Earth,  I have already experienced a great deal of the 'ole Jedi experience that Luke shared with Obi Wan and Master Yoda. I was out for an OWS (open water swim) on Wednesday. The water was quite choppy. I could hear my father's voice, helping me along. He speaks to me and I answer as if him because I know he is with me. I swam the buoys as I do every time I go out for an OWS. When I got to the turnaround, I said "Okay papa, help me motor back." I could see him nod and give and a Hmmm... you really learned how to swim pretty decently look on his face. You know, with the bottom lip slightly protruding. Body language is incredible, isn't it?

Thanks to all of my blogger friends who have shared their condolences, both publicly and privately. It was so wonderfully uplifting to me and my family.

Needless to say, the training has been quite inconsistent this week. I fit in a run here, a swim there. It's okay. Life happens. Amazingly, I just won an entrance into the Rev 3 triathlon at Cedar Point on my friend Kelly's blog! It has been a whirlwind week full of emotions. Thanks for having this drawing Kelly. I am super excited. I guess I ought to start ramping up the training, huh?

Nine days until the Musselman HIM. Super excited about the race and the Arts Triathlon beforehand. More on that soon.

Train Smart!

Iron Reflections: 20 Weeks In

I have come to the realization that trying to train over the course of a week with five children, and lives as insanely busy as ours, (well everyone's,) I pretty much have to take what I can get sometimes. I have to constantly remind myself that I am—despite dreams of racing Crowie towards the finish line to inch him out at the tape—not a professional triathlete, nor am I single, independently wealthy, or willing to interact with my family for only twenty minutes a day.

To be a good father and husband, I have to be around. Being around often means sacrificing the number of hours that I can train in a day, or over the course of a week. It is hard psychologically—at least for me. The first 10 weeks of training were far easier, but as they weeks progressed, and the volume increased, my body is unable to turn it around as quickly for the workout the following day. Well, let me throw a caveat in there; it would be able to turn it around if I went to bed earlier and got more rest. I do not get enough rest, for sure. Thus, the part about being a good husband/partner/significant other. You can not come home from training, have dinner, put the kids in bed and crash without the risk of divorce papers. One thing that I miss is the occasional night out to have a beer or two. Not now, not with ironman training. I have two beers and I feel terrible the next day. Case in point: Friday night, an old student came by the house to visit, stayed for dinner and we talked over a nice bottle of red (the wifey helped too.) My Saturday training session felt sluggish.

I tried to think what the reason my wife and I stay up too late and feel tired the next day. I think I've figured it out:


Our life constantly revolves around little people. All day... "mommy this, daddy that...." There are times when we are driving in the car and three of our children will be arguing over one toy. It would seem as if the fate of the human race depended on this one particular plastic toy—manufactured in China for pennies—lied in the hands of each one of them from how adamantly they argue over it. Meanwhile, our baby is crying because she wants to listen to "princess music," and one of the twins is whining because she forgot her picture she colored at the Y (which get set down outside in the mulch in our landscaping, or on the grass, or in a stack of a million other pictures that they colored from the Y as soon as they get home to be shortly forgotten and never heard from again.) But to them, these issues are current and larger than keeping oil from hemorrhaging into the Gulf of Mexico. The wifey and I will look at each other in the car sometime, and realize that our only recourse when this kind of thing happens late at night—which it often does—is to announce the bedtime rituals (shower/bath, teeth brushing, jammies, books,) will commence immediately upon arrival at our home.

My great week of training capped off with a mediocre Saturday ride. The plan called for a 3:25 ride, followed by a 50 minute run, but we were all resigned to the fact that was not going to happen. I feel bad, but my training partners know that I can not be gone from the house for six hours (length of time it would take with loading gear and the drive) on a weekend. Not going to happen. I spent my morning at the diamond with the boys, then we ran to the bike shop to talk about my new rig (more on that later.) We were about 10 miles in when I started pulling way from Manuel and Adam on the bike. Every once minute or so I would look back to see where they were. I did not feel particularly strong on Saturday. I felt really tired—even before I got out there. It's the sleep thing! About five minutes later I heard my cell ring and it was Manuel—his chain had broke. To make matters worse, I had to bike two miles back to them to learn none of us had an extra link or chain tool. Here are Adam and I making fun of Manuel—not for breaking his chain—but for not showing up with the required Crankskins gear. This gear makes us at least .0001% faster.

Sunday's workout was a bit crazy. I was suppose to run a race in the morning. A 5k followed by a 10K. There was a deal in which you could run both races for $27. I was going to run the 5k to warm up my legs, and then race the 10k. I had forgotten that my wife had a 10 a.m. rehearsal and I was not going anywhere. Good thing too, my body was still in rest mode. I did get out for a run though, 8.5 miles during the hottest part of the day. It got up to 84 with about 600% humidity. Seriously, I was sweating like crazy before I even left my driveway. I could not be happier with my respectable 8:14's. I took a few endurolytes before I took off and a couple on the run every half hour to stave off the cramping. I had all four bottles in my fuel belt loaded up with liquid, but my drink turned out to be a wee bit too sugary and I only brought one bottle of water. I drank half the water and poured the other four ounces over my head and back and chest.

Speaking of the diamond, I took the boys there Saturday morning to practice their game and have some fun. They never want to leave once they are there, especially Luca, and it shows. He went six for six in his game the other day, caught five pop-ups, and switch hit for two doubles. He certainly does not get his coordination from me! Julian and I played some football alla rest of the world in the field next to the diamond while Luca had his game. Here is Luca batting lefty, just before he connected for his first double.

Here I am with the boys during the game. I love Little League. I mean, when am I ever going to be able to pull my son aside again anytime during his sports career, give him a hug and take a picture again in the middle of a game? Hey... technically, I guess I could do that anytime I desire. I think that is one of the spoils of parenthood we enjoy. Whenever my kids ask me "why?" in response to something my wife and I tell them to do, I say ".. because I use to change all your stinky diapers, and this is your way of paying me back."

I capped off my weekend with a trip to our favorite ice cream joint. Here is Stella letting me try some of her Superman ice cream. Our family does not go out for ice cream often (and it's a good thing—$18 for seven "baby" ice creams!) but when we do, we throughly enjoy it!

More on the new rig later this week.

Train Smart!

Incessant Whining And Other Joys Of Parenting

There is no greater joy in my life than being a father. It is difficult to explain to my friends without children just how amazing it is to have these little, wonderful people run to the door and jump into your arms every time you come home to greet you with hugs and kisses—unconditional love. You are at the center of their universe. Of course, being the center of their universe, there is no escape from the the strong gravitational orbit they exhibit at all hours of the day to your person. Truth be told, there are hours, especially in my wife's day, that every one of our five kids seems to be attached to us as if we were wombats (one of my favorite marsupial.) We had five children—six and under at one time. Now, the oldest is eight. The most difficult part about parenting all of them now is that they all desire and deserve attention from mom and dad throughout their days—usually having to compete with attention from their siblings. There are times when I am talking to one of my children, and two other come and interrupt me with a question like "Daddy, do you like coconuts? I made you coconuts and strawberries."  I will then be handed a plate of plastic food that apparently is the aforementioned coconuts and strawberries. Amazingly, they also double as steak and potato's. Then there is the inexplicable Girls Never Stop Talking During Dinner Phenomenon. I am not sure why girls talk so much more than boys. All I know is that mine never seem to stop talking. The idle chatter becomes like a trance-like mantra for my wife and I at dinner. They have mouths full of food, but are talking about squirrels, or princesses, or pink lego's—sometimes we really have no idea—we just can not believe that they keep talking. And we, of course tell them not to speak with food in their mouths, but perhaps their insatiable need to talk turns off their ears, so that they can not actually hear anything we say to them. The boys are a different story. They are getting to the point were they are competitive with one another. It's funny though. They both have their particular strengths.
Luca, my oldest (8), is coordinated beyond belief. He played baseball last summer, and was switch hitting regularly during games. However, he lacks, what my wife and I refer to as any semblance of common sense whatsoever. Julian, the second oldest (6), is not particularly athletic, or coordinated—although my wife likes to remind me that he was riding a two-wheeler sans training wheels when he was three—but he has an incredible gift of memory. We are not sure how he can recall the data from when he was three, but somehow it is all stored up there in that young, formative brain of his. I mention the competitiveness only in the context of how this translates into amplitude. Competition equals volume: "Yes it does! No it doesn't! Yes it does! No it doesn't." Calgon, take me away! Even though dinner time can sometime be as chaotic as a bee hive in July, we submit—rather than embrace—the insanity with equal parts humor and angst.
With that said, wifey and I have days that we wish we could run away to a beach and drink piña coladas and strawberry daiquiri's all day, while basking in the warm sunlight without the incessant whining of five air raid sirens. Every once in a while we experience this strange anomaly of everyone getting along under one roof seemingly without any drama. Shortly thereafter, the cosmos somehow realizes this, and restores everything to normal disorder.

Training Update: I was really excited about my long run last weekend. I was down in Geneva, NY for a concert and was planning on running the Musselman Half-Ironman course on Saturday morning. However, Thursday, following my swim I started experiencing some post-nasal drip, and general unpleasantness in my body. I woke up Saturday morning and felt run down and tired. After a late morning breakfast and some coffee, I spent the day doing busy work in front of a computer overlooking the beautiful view of Seneca Lake. I had a big project to do and had to get it done before I could get outside for my run. When I finally got out at 3:00 p.m., I could only manage 40 minutes of running. My body was just exhausted. One of the most difficult things to do when you are training is to take a break. Psychologically, I always feel like my cardiovascular strength is going to diminish rapidly, or I am somehow going to forget how to swim.

Life Update: My new piece: Stress Test for piano concertino premieres on a concert this month—thus the less frequent postings. I have been up to my earlobes with work recently. Luckily, I have a team of unbelievably dedicated people working with me. I am especially excited that my friend Kelly—and fellow triathlon blogger over at trimommylife—is playing the flute part in my concertino. Kelly and I went to graduate school together. I owe a lot of my triathlon knowledge to her. When I first got started in the sport, she sent me a surprising email after a triathlon that I ran just to say "good job." It took me a second to figure out that she must have run it too. After that, I picked her brain about everything from gear to nutrition, blogging to training. She has been incredibly supportive along the way. Thanks Kelly!

If you are in or around my neck of the woods mid-April, come check out our concert.

Happy Training!

Post-Bedtime Traumatic Caveman Disorder

Phew! We had a pretty nice Monday morning swim. After an 800 warm up, we did 5x300 with 20 seconds rest in between. We finished with a 200 warm down. The swim stroke is feeling a bit better these days and my swimming endurance has improved tremendously, but I am still not, nor do I think I will I ever be, a swimmer. When I started all this triathlon nonsense—as my wife sometimes affectionately refers to it—I really could not swim a lick. I don't even think I swam a thousand yards in preparation for my first sprint triathlon. I underestimated how difficult the run was going to be. I was running six miles two or three times a week, thinking "...heck, the run will be cake." Not after a 24 minute swim and a 17-mile trek on a mountain bike with a front suspension fork. Although, now that bike ride would would be excellent training. The most difficult part of training is still the hidden variable of being a father. By the time we get all the kiddies in bed—sometimes it is real work—it is approaching nine o'clock. Alaina and I are usually spent and need time to unwind. Most times we will recharge with one another, but we have been known to go into our individual caves and get the fuzziness out of heads for a half hour before we can even begin to communicate using things other than grunts and moans. This "fuzziness" is something that I like to refer to as "Post-Bedtime Traumatic Caveman Disorder." This is a serious and common affliction that should not be taken lightly. As many as... every parent suffers from this disorder, whether they know it, or believe it. Seriously, the kiddies can really tap you. My theory is that our kids have so much energy because they steal it from us.

Generally, parents embrace that time with their partners. As humans, we need that time. That is why I am still getting in bed a bit later than I would like. I like to pretend I am still marginally connected with the outside world when I am done wrestling all five of my kids. Coincidentally, the boys might be bigger, but those girls are pretty squirrely and have no fear. They also think nothing of it running full speed and crashing their knees down in your stomach after dinner. Lovely. A premature post-bedtime traumatic caveman syndrome (PBTCD) sound is usually uttered: "Huuuuaaaaggghh!" Good thing I have been working those core muscles. If only getting punched in the gut without warning were part of the transition process, I would be completely prepared for it.

I am already looking forward to Friday when we have a tough 3200 swim again. What make this one especially tough is the main set is 2x1000. Dreary folks, dreary. My form starts to slip a tad (by a tad, I mean, it starts to look like I may be in need of some assistance from the lifeguards) after the first thousand and I have to be conscious of it, otherwise I start slowing down, and it just takes that much longer. Okay, off to battle. Happy Training everyone!

Some thoughts on Cowboys, Luke Skywalker and Parenting

Ready for an hour run this morning with the team: Manuel, Scott and Adam. It should be great fun. Then we have a 35 minute spin to shake out those muscles. The rest of my day will be consumed with rehearsals and writing music. 

I am loving my Timex Ironman Race Trainer Kit more and more. You can not really cheat with a heart rate monitor on. There is no "dogging" it. You cannot estimate your exertion with the HRM on—it lets you know. You know exactly what intensity you're putting out. The best part about the watch is that it actually logs all of your heart rate date for you  online.


Alaina decided that we should go out this afternoon and get one of those Wild West type pictures taken because some local place is offering one free 16X20. You know,  you get dressed up in cowboy gear. Dad gets to hold an old musket with a coon cap while sporting some old tattered long leather deer-skin coat. The boys will wear some caps and vests and the girls will all be wear little gowns with gloves on and flowers on their hats. Invariably, no one is smiling in these pictures, because apparently in the Wild West, no one was ever happy. Alaina spent about five minutes explaining to the kids how everything was going to unfold when we go to take the picture. When she finished Luca said, "Cool, I want to be Luke Skywalker," and Amalia said she wanted to be a "butterfly." I don't think they quite understood the concept.


My wife and I are often amazed how we can both work out really hard and feel like we have more left in the tank, only to leave the gym and be mentally exhausted in less than three minutes in the car on the way home with the children. 


I have to admit, I am feeling unusually stressed out right now. I am pretty laid back (for a Jack Russell Terrier,) but I have some looming writing deadlines that I have to wrap up, all while I am preparing for a sleuth of concerts in the spring. I am also doing quite a bit of traveling this spring out of town for gigs and guest lecturing. I love it—it is great fun—but trying to work out child care for five children when Alaina and I have to be in two different places can be really stressful. I get especially stressed out when I know it is going to impede on my normal workout routine. As selfish as that sounds, I am a much nicer human being when I don't miss a workout. I have been known to get kind of crabby. 


Okay, more soon. Happy Training!